User blog comment:Snowstripe the Fierce/The Mercenaries' War/@comment-26538658-20150825010919/@comment-2246928-20150904120425

A fox stood there, tall and bold amongst the trees with a drawn longsword resting against his shoulder. When he smiled, pointed fangs glistened within his pale-honey-colored face, and he seemed to smile often. "Well naow, look who's just decided to swagger inter my neck o' th' country. 'Ow d'ye do?"

The kilt about his waist swished as the vulpine moved. He tossed the blade upward, before catching it by the handle as it dropped and thrusting it into the ground before him. Both strong paws resting on the pommel, the fox returned his gaze to the stranger.